


a kind face

by Maglana



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 20:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maglana/pseuds/Maglana
Summary: Arthur Morgan helps a woman trapped under her horse, and claims a reward better than he ever imagined.Also posted to my tumblr, maglana-darkheart





	a kind face

**Author's Note:**

> This is an additional warning, this story contains dubcon - that means dubious consent.

Valentine wasn’t much to look at, in Arthur’s opinion. He had never been fond of livestock towns and the stench of animal shit that lingered in the air. The people were awful and weren’t fond of outsiders, though in their defence, Arthur had beat a man to a bloody pulp on his very first trip to the town. It had been a relief when Trelawny had given them the lead on Sean MacGuire’s whereabouts; while Arthur hadn’t been keen on going anywhere near Blackwater ever again, it was good to save Sean from inevitable hanging. The bloodbath they had created in the bounty hunter’s camp was good for the stress too, Arthur thought.

“Are you coming with us, Arthur?” Javier’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Arthur saw the man climbing onto his horse as Sean talked Charles’ ear off. Wanting to spare himself from the Irishman’s endless chatter, Arthur shook his head. 

“I’m going to see what’s worth taking from here,” Arthur announced, watching Sean climb onto the back of Boaz and ramble on about the amount of stories that he had to tell. Javier had exasperation painted all over this face as he followed Charles down the trail, trying not to give Sean too much attention. Arthur whistled for Boadicea, walking over to a body laying nearby to loot the bounty hunter as the American Standardbred made its way toward him, the Buckskin coat horse whining as it halted nearby. Arthur did a quick sweep of the camp; there wasn’t much. The man decided to leave before the law or more bounty hunters showed up, he spurred his horse toward the trail to make a getaway.

Perhaps he should head toward Strawberry, he wouldn’t arrive back in camp until nightfall and he didn’t quite feel like partying with Sean. He knew there would be a party; there was always a party when something like this happened. The hotel in Strawberry wasn’t awful, it would do for a night.

“You’re alright, girl,” Arthur mumbled, brushing his horse with his hand briefly before reaching into his satchel; the man had picked up some oatcakes from the general store in Valentine earlier in the day. After all the riding they had done today alone, Boadicea deserved a treat. She ate right from his hand and he praised her more; there wasn’t much that he cared about more than his horse. Arthur almost didn’t hear the cries and calls for help nearby, and he halted Boadicea. The shouting was louder and belonged to a woman, and Arthur left the main trail to move toward the noise. On a less clear dirt track that he likely would have missed if not for the cries, Arthur came across a dead horse. It was a large shire horse, and underneath it laid a woman. She was alive, and looked relieved to see him. 

“Oh, thank the Lord! Can you help me sir?” She asked, looking up at him with sore eyes. The woman had been crying, Arthur noted. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be trapped under a horse in wolf infested woods. “My horse, poor thing, he up and died on me.” She explained the obvious situation, and Arthur sighed; he couldn’t walk away from this with a clear conscience. 

“Sure, why not.” He replied, climbing down from his horse and walking toward her. “How long have you been out here?” He questioned, watching the woman as she sat up more and helped him push the heavy beast from her leg. It was a struggle, and Arthur felt himself straining as he lifted the horse up enough for the woman to pull her leg free.

“Oh my, that’s it! I was there for hours, sir, I couldn’t quite tell you how long,” She answered, and Arthur offered the woman a hand. He pulled her to her feet, and the poor thing’s face scrunched up in pain as she stood on the injured leg. “I was terrified that wolves would find me before anyone else did, thank you sir!” She grinned, practically throwing herself at Arthur to hug him. It was odd and unwelcomed contact; he made that very clear as he tensed up. 

“Do you want a ride home, ma’am?” He offered, though honestly he would much prefer to leave her here as she seemed to be the chatty type. He had intentionally avoided it with Sean, but Sean wasn’t a lady in clear distress. The woman’s eyes lit up and Arthur already knew her answer before her big mouth opened. 

“I would really appreciate that, thank you! I knew you had a kind face!” She beamed, and Arthur mounted Boadicea without another word. He offered the woman his hand and pulled her up onto the back of his horse. He predicted it well enough, she was the chatty type. He hadn’t even reached the end of the trail to the main track before she was going on about how she had raised her horse since it was a filly.

“I live just west of Emerald Ranch, sir. I know it’s far away, but I have some money in the house as a reward.” She informed him, and Arthur felt like kicking himself.  _ This better be some reward _ , he thought. At least she wouldn’t talk for the entire time, right?

* * *

A few hours later, Arthur couldn’t help but feel so incredibly wrong about Alice Stanton. They were halfway there, by it was dark now and too dangerous to keep riding on. There were wild animals and O’Driscoll’s around the idea, he didn’t feel like getting himself or this innocent woman killed. He had explained to her that they needed to stop and set up a camp for the night; she seemed hesitant but agreed with Arthur, assisting him as much as she could on her injured ankle. She wasn’t as useless as he had anticipated, she knew how to set up a tent at the very least. She focused on setting up Arthur’s bedroll inside as he collected wood for a campfire. 

Did she still talk the entire time? Yes, she did. Alice blabbered on about how she used to go camping with her older brothers all the time, and Arthur honestly considered gagging the woman until the morning. It wasn’t the first time he considered it, there had been a point where she got off of the horse to relieve herself and he had briefly considered leaving her there as she pissed behind a tree. She seemed to run her mouth a lot, and Arthur wondered if she could put it to better use. He rarely had thoughts about that, especially when it came to strangers, but Alice? Those painted red lips had to be good for something. He didn’t see why anyone would marry her if they couldn’t gag her on their cock to shut her up.

“... Mr Morgan? I have some ground coffee, if you want it?” She smiled, holding a tin out to him. He silently declined with a wave of his hand, returning his focus to lighting the fire. He had his own coffee and he would need it, given that Alice was going to sleep in the tent while he stayed awake. He may not have the mind of the gentleman, but he wasn’t going to show that by sleeping next to her in the tent. 

“Alright, well, if you change your mind it’ll be in my satchel.” She told him, gesturing to the bag that she had placed near the mouth of the tent. 

“Get some sleep, Miss Stanton. I want to pack up at first light.” Arthur informed her, and the woman nodded her head. At least she could take orders, he mused, watching her crawl into the tent. She didn’t secure the flaps of the tent; perhaps she thought he would join her? Arthur wasn’t so sure. He lit up the fire and sat back, deciding to document today in his journal. While she was certainly annoying, she was pretty to look at. Those lips he wanted to sew shut were plump and looked so soft, her eyes full of happiness even in such strange circumstances. He didn’t understand how she could be so happy after everything she had gone through, not only with her horse but because she was a widow. She seemed quite young, though, she couldn’t be much older than Sean but definitely younger than John. Arthur glanced toward the tent briefly, hearing the Alice’s soft snores, before returning to the portrait he had started in his journal.

As the night crawled by, Arthur had finished a rather detailed sketch of her in his journal and documented what he knew of her, and how annoying the encounter had been. He tucked his journal into his satchel again, looking around for his own tin of coffee before realising that he had run out. Of course, he sighed, he would have to take hers. Arthur was quiet as he reached into the tent, not wanting to wake the talkative woman, and retrieved her satchel. He could always put it back later, rather than dig around for her coffee at an arm’s length away from her.

Her satchel didn’t have much. Coffee, biscuits, a coin purse and photo of who Arthur could only assume was her husband -- a journal too. It was a light brown leather bound book slightly smaller but thicker than Arthur’s journal; he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want a peek at the pages. Alice had already told him her life story, what could be in here that he didn’t know? Arthur set the satchel down between his legs as he opened the first page of her journal; a checklist of groceries to collect from the market, the date in the corner telling him that the journal was purchased or at least started only two months ago. 

Arthur flicked through the pages; she wasn’t much of an artist, he noted, but a particular page caught his attention. There was a photo between the pages of a naked woman, Arthur could tell from the face that it wasn’t Alice. On the back of the photo the name ‘Hilda O’Neil’ was written in neat cursive above a year. 1898. Arthur looked at the actual journal, reading what the woman had written. His eyes widened as the woman documented her exploits with Hilda, and the images that filled Arthur’s mind certainly weren’t unwelcomed. The woman went into detail about how she and Hilda grinded on each other, kissing like their lives depended on it. Hilda had something Alice called ‘heavenly labium’ that had shown her a ‘new realm of pure bliss’ that she had never experienced before.

Alice was a lesbian, Arthur assumed, until he tucked the photo of Hilda back into the pages and turned to the next one.

Alice must like both men and women, based on the photo of a well-endowed man named ‘Dennis Malone’ taken this year. He had heard of men who document all the women they had laid with, but this was the first time that Arthur had heard of a woman doing the same thing rather than call it disgusting. Again, the widow went into detail about her exploits. Rather than be on her knees lapping at Hilda’s cunt, Alice was bent over her kitchen table as Dennis railed her. The woman went into detail about the things that Dennis had done to her, including degrading her as she sucked his engorged shaft. Arthur was mildly relieved to know that he wasn’t alone in the fantasy of putting Alice’s mouth to better use.

As he turned the page again, he expected to see a photo of a man or woman again, but only saw more writing. She was explaining a dream -- well, a fantasy -- that she had experienced about a strong, handsome stranger. The man broke into her home in the middle of the night and pinned her to her bed, his mask pulled over his face as he ripped the nightdress from her body. She whispered ‘no’ but she meant  _ yes _ , she wanted the bandit to completely ravish her. That’s just what the man did, pulling his ‘throbbing beast’ from his trousers and fucking Alice until she saw stars. Arthur read on, the fantasy only becoming more and more  _ graphic _ . 

He glanced toward the tent again before unbuttoning his trousers, pulling his cock out; the outlaw was semi-hard and flipped the page, seeing another photo. With one hand wrapped around his own shaft, he examined the photo and realised that it was of Alice herself. The woman was completely nude, one hand grasping a large breast and the other spreading her labia. She looked like she was about to be fucked, or perhaps use her fingers to pleasure herself. The look of seduction on her face made Arthur groan lowly as he stroked himself; he had to have her. 

He closed the journal and left it beside her satchel, not bothering to stand and just crawl into the tent. There wasn’t much light, but in the minimal glow of the fire behind him, he could see that Alice was asleep on her side facing the wall of the tent. There was enough room for Arthur to lay behind her, and Arthur decided that he would do so after he prepared her. He lifted her skirt and petticoats with one hand, exposing the woman’s lack of drawers. Instead, the woman wore a pair of blue cotton stockings that reached just other her knees. As he lifted her skirt over her ass, he realised that she was wearing a shorter pair of split cotton and lace drawers that buttoned up at both the front and back; Arthur popped the buttons easily, pulling one half the garment down her thigh. 

His hand roamed over her asscheeks then her thighs, her skin was so soft and perfect. Arthur heard her stir, goosebumps breaking out over her skin as the cool air of the night finally reached her exposed lower body. Arthur moved his hand back to his cock, stroking to get himself fully erect; she had a fantasy and he had needs, caused largely by his own intrusion into her journal. Not waiting a moment longer, Arthur lifted her thigh up, slowly until her snatch was exposed to the cool night air. He positioned himself so that his cock rubbed against her folds; she was wet and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

“M-Mr Morgan?” Alice’s tired, trembling voice made him look at her; she was staring over her shoulder at him. He could feel her eyes on him; and Arthur shushed her quietly. “What… Why?” She questioned, her arm moving and he expected her to push him away; instead her arm held her own leg up by the knee, giving his hand better movement. His hand held his cock again, rubbing the tip along her slit and teasing over her entrance.

“Read that journal of yours,” Arthur admitted, pressing his chest against her back and moving his other arm underneath her; Alice propped herself up slightly as the head of his cock pushed into her cunt, and his hands pulled open the front of her shirt. He didn’t think about the consequences, and also tore open her camisole in order to fondle her breasts as he bucked his hips, jutting his cock deeper into her. She was wet but not quite enough, but Arthur didn’t mind too much.

“Saw that photo of ya, had to have a piece.” He mumbled, lips latching onto her neck. Alice groaned, pushing her hips back as Arthur pulled back, one hand moving down to rub her clit. “You should be glad I’m not gagging you, with the way you’ve been running your mouth all day.” Arthur stated, though he noted that she was unusually non-vocal aside from the little moans.

Perhaps this was something that Alice was heavily accustomed to? Being woken by a lover in the dead of night to fuck, perhaps she was used to needing to keep quiet during her scandalous rendezvous? It also left Arthur wondering what kind of man could pin such a harlot down in a marriage; but Alice’s sharp gasp as Arthur thrust harder and deeper into her cunt brought him back to reality. 

“Mr Morgan, if you wanted me to be quiet… You could have just asked me!” Her voice was strained as she spoke, with Arthur attempting to bury himself balls deep in her cunt, it was clearly hard to remain coherent. “I could put my mouth to better use…” She sounded so seductive; Arthur bit into her neck lightly, his teeth nipping at her skin. It drew a shuddering breath from Alice’s lips, barely a moan, barely anything. He decided to give her something to remember him by; a thing or two, perhaps. 

“Oh, Mr Morgan…” She groaned as Arthur sucked and nipped at the soft skin, her throat clearly sensitive in the best way as his mouth set about marking her. Property, at least for the night. His property. It became increasingly easier to fuck her, too. Her cunt slickening up and allowing his cock better access easier, slipping almost balls deep into her. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him; the noise vibrating the tender skin of her neck. 

When Arthur was satisfied that her skin would bruise from his kiss, Arthur planted his hands either side of her trembling torso and began to fuck her harder; more dedicated thrusts into her snatch. It was for his pleasure alone, of course, but every groan and gasp was encouragement. It was letting him know that he was doing good; although he was simply being selfish. 

“You like that?” Arthur’s voice rumbled, low yet powerful, his eyes meeting Alice’s own as he thrust so mercilessly. Her eyes, full of pleasure, were barely open anymore. He could vividly see the glint of light reflecting in those orbs, and her soft lips parted as she moaned in ecstasy. 

“Yes,” She cried. “Yes, yes!” She repeated, and repeated again a few more times, only interrupted when Arthur’s strong palm connected with her soft asscheeks; the slap echoed lightly through the tent. His fingers dug into the skin, spreading her cheeks briefly before his hand crashed into the reddening skin once again; her gasping lost in the bliss. 

It had been so long since Arthur could spend a night with a woman like Alice, so long since he had stopped and dedicated himself to the pleasure that he so deserved. He needed his release and he knew that he wasn’t far from reaching it; the way Alice’s cunt hugged and squeezed his cock as he worked her like a whore was getting him there like a speeding train. 

“Good girl,” Arthur grunted into her ear, one hand moving to her hip and gripping her hard; it might bruise, and her whimpers were like music to his ears. “What a fine bitch you turned out to be…” He mumbled, his lips pressing against the smooth skin just under her ear; his nose buried in her beautiful hair. His grunts grew more jagged until eventually his hips just bucked wildly against hers; grinding to a halt as he blew his load deep inside of the woman below him. 

“M-Mr Morgan!” Alice gasped, she hadn’t quite expected this from him. She could feel Arthur’s hot cum inside of her; he was filling her up without a single care in the world for the consequences. She bit her lip, hands digging into his back as he emptied himself. 

“Get some rest,” Alice muttered to Arthur as he laid on her, catching his breath and regaining his senses. He rolled off of her, laying beside her; his cock softening against his thigh. Heavens, this woman was as good as she claimed to be; even when she laid there to be fucked like a piece of meat. A dark chuckle escaped him, and he used her tattered camisole to clean himself. 

“Goodnight, Miss Stanton.” 


End file.
